MB01 - Unending Devotion (37 page)

She was stuck.

Lily leaned her head back against the cold wall. The rag in her mouth was torturously dry against her swollen tongue.

Better her than Daisy.

Loud laughter and the twang of the piano sifted through the floorboards. The debauchery of the evening was well under way.

And where was Daisy? Had she gone to a brothel somewhere?

Lily squeezed her eyes closed at the possibility that Daisy had gone to Hell’s Half Mile. The very thought of her sister selling her body in the dark catacombs underneath Bay City made her stomach lurch with nausea.

The question resounded through her mind as it had over the past day since she’d found Daisy’s note: Why? Why had Daisy done it? Again?

Lily couldn’t accept that Daisy liked prostitution. The idea was too repulsive.

Her heart radiated with pain.

What hurt more than anything was knowing Daisy had willfully left her, that she hadn’t wanted to be with her.

Oh, God, why?
The ache moved up her throat.
Why my baby sister?

She’d already lost her parents. Wasn’t that enough? Why Daisy too?

All her life she’d wanted to keep Daisy safe and for them to be a family—the two of them and the tiny portrait of their parents. She’d tried to raise her sister as best she could, doing everything she thought their mother and father would have wanted.

What had she done wrong?

The agony pushed up into a choked cry, but the tight rag in her mouth prevented any sobs.

She’d been bent on saving the world—everything and everyone. But she hadn’t been able to save the one person who mattered most.

Tears welled in her eyes.

Oh, God, are you there?
A trickle of cold wetness rolled down her cheek. She had no one now—not even the image of her parents that she’d clung to for so many years.

She shuddered, wishing she could wrap her arms around herself. But with all her efforts earlier to free herself from the binding, she’d rubbed her skin until it was painfully raw. And she was still no closer to loosening the ropes than when she’d arrived.

Did God still care about her?

Could she trust that He was creating a beautiful quilt—a bigger plan for her life—even when the pieces didn’t look so pretty at the moment?

She’d been trying so hard to put together her life the way
she’d
wanted. Was it possible God had other plans for her that didn’t fit the pattern she’d tried to create? Maybe it was time to stop trying so hard to be in control.

The questions swirled through her. And suddenly she didn’t feel quite so alone. She almost had the feeling God was near enough to hear her desperate cries. That He was listening. That He was trying to tell her that even if everyone else left her, He never would.

Footsteps clomped in the hallway, growing louder as they neared her closet.

Was Maggie coming again?

The steps halted in front of her door.

Lily sat up straighter. Sudden resolve poured through her. Maybe it was time to start asking God what His plans were instead of always taking matters into her own hands.

Okay, God, what do you want me to do?

She listened intently, hoping for a voice, for some audible direction, but all she heard was a key in the keyhole rattling and then the door squeaking open a crack.

Maggie peeked in, lifted her lantern, and cast brilliant light on Lily.

After almost complete blackness during the past twenty-four hours, Lily blinked hard.

“Are you ready yet?” Maggie’s voice was muffled by the bright scarf that covered her mouth and nose.

Lily started to shake her head as adamantly as she had the other times, but then stopped.

How would she escape if she didn’t get out of the closet? If she pretended to submit to Maggie, maybe the woman would remove the binding and let her leave the black hole.

She’d go along with the woman for a little while and buy herself some time to try to figure out what God had in mind for her. This time she would try to trust Him.

With a choked breath, she nodded her head and tried to make herself look as broken and humiliated as possible.

Maggie’s eyebrows shot up, and she stared at Lily for a long moment, as though trying to grasp the sudden change in Lily’s attitude.

“Fine,” Maggie said slowly. “We’ll get you dressed up real pretty, and then you can show us what a good girl you’re willing to be.”

Lily hung her head, but inside she was standing up tall and fighting with all her might.

“But don’t think you’re going to find a way to leave.”

Maggie’s warning jolted through Lily. She shook her head and hoped the woman would read it as submission.

“One wrong move, sugar, and you’ll be back in this closet faster than you can blink.” Maggie reached for her arm and dragged her into the deserted hallway. “And if that happens, I’ll make sure you learn your lesson. I never, never put up with lying. Never.”

Lily tried to ignore the fear swarming through her.

She could only pray that God would provide a way of escape. And soon.

Chapter
28

T
hey would kill him if they recognized him.

Connell slouched, his stomach tight and ready for the first punch or shot of lead.

The bouncer at the door eyed him up and down, then nodded and moved aside to let him enter the saloon.

He ducked his head, pulled the borrowed derby low over his eyes, and stepped into the crowded, smoke-filled room. The room reeked of dirty socks and flesh that hadn’t had a good scrubbing in months.

The drunken laughter and piano music drowned out the loud chopping of his heartbeat. He’d never been good at playacting, but he forced his feet forward, trying to exude the swaggering confidence of a man who frequented such establishments on a regular basis.

He lifted his chin long enough for a quick glance around the room. Two more bouncers. One standing at the bottom of the stairway. And another by the money pail at the bar.

That brought the total to four so far, including the one at the gate and the one he’d just passed at the door.

If Bass’s map of the Stockade was still correct, there would be two more bouncers—somewhere upstairs. For a total of six.

Connell scuffed his boots in uncharacteristic laziness and headed toward an empty chair at one of the round tables where several shanty boys were drinking and playing cards.

“Deal me in the next hand,” he said in a raspy voice that he hoped disguised his own. He didn’t wait for their acknowledgment. Instead, he scraped the chair across the floor and lowered himself into it, making sure to jingle the coins in his pocket as he sat.

Their frowns of protest smoothed into eager acceptance. One of them chortled and called out to a girl at the bar. “Bring this fella a drink, sweetheart. And bring more for the rest of us too.”

The scruffy faces of the shanty boys at his table didn’t look familiar. But that didn’t mean they wouldn’t recognize him. He was too well known, even among other camps, to get by for very long without someone figuring out who he was, even in disguise.

His foreman at Camp 1 had been more than willing to loan him his work clothes. And now his odor was as sour as any other shanty boy. The shirt was stiff with dried sweat, and the stains and grime of many days’ hard work were ingrained into every fiber.

Vera had darkened his hair with soot from the stove. She’d blackened his fingernails and had added a smudge or two to his face for good measure. She’d even brought out a foul-smelling concoction of hers she claimed would change the color of his day-old scruff. But he’d had to draw the line somewhere.

The disguise would only buy him minutes. And he wouldn’t fool Carr, especially because the good-for-nothing scum was no doubt expecting him.

Connell had asked the other men to hold off storming the Stockade—to give him fifteen minutes to locate Lily, to have her safe in hand before the battle began. There was no telling what Carr would do to Lily if they didn’t have her before the fighting started.

But he had a feeling rescuing her first was wishful thinking. He didn’t know where she was and had no way of searching. Even so, the men had reluctantly agreed to let him go in alone for fifteen minutes under disguise, urging him to be cautious. If Carr caught him too, then he’d have two hostages. The men would likely be helpless, unable to do anything except what Carr demanded to get him and Lily back.

Connell’s heart rammed against his ribs, just as it had done since he’d climbed Dead Man’s Hill. The clock was ticking, and he needed to make every second count.

He had to find out where Carr was keeping Lily. That’s the only thing that really mattered anymore—the only thing he could think about.

“Heard Bella’s back.” He chanced another glance around the tavern. Half a dozen girls in their fancy silk dresses sashayed with swinging hips through the room. Some delivered drinks from the bar, while a few others were hanging on the arms of men or sitting on laps giggling and flirting.

He’d wager the low-cut dresses exposing the creamy flesh of their bosoms was enticement enough for most of the shanty boys. The girls surely didn’t need to do much more to interest a man in going upstairs.

He forced his eyes away from the temptation. He couldn’t imagine how any man could stay strong against lust when he was surrounded on all sides by such scantily attired women.

The dealer across the table from him gave a short laugh. “Naw, Bella ain’t back.” His fingers arched against the cards, sending them cascading with a snap and speed of a seasoned gambler.

“But Carr’s got something better tonight.” One of the other men grinned. “He’s breaking in Bella’s sister.”

The blood drained from Connell’s body, leaving him breathless and weak. Was he too late to protect Lily from rape? He rose from his chair an inch, eyeing the bouncer at the base of the stairway. Could he overpower the man and make it upstairs?

“The man who puts the most money in the pot,” the dealer said, nodding toward the tin pail next to the bar, “gets the first chance with her.”

“Hope you’re ready to lose some money,” said the third man, “’cuz I’m aiming to take that pretty little spitfire to bed first.”

The man nodded in the direction of the bar. At that moment, the woman turned, two mugs of beer in each hand.

Her rich woodsy brown eyes glowered with fiery sparks.

Lily!

His heart crashed forward.

Her brows shot up, and she stopped so suddenly that some of the foaming amber liquid sloshed out of the mugs. Her lips began to curve into a smile, and she opened her mouth.

He gave a quick shake of his head, warning her not to say anything, not to acknowledge him, hoping she’d understand the need to play along with his charade.

Her smile withered before it had the chance to bloom. She promptly forced a scowl back to her countenance, one fierce enough to ward off any man who might grab her as she passed. But her eyes were still wide and questioning, and—dare he say—filled with happiness to see him?

He wanted to stand up, hoist her over his shoulder, and make a run for it. But he knew he’d only get a gunshot in his back and would put her in danger as well.

No, he’d have to stay calm, somehow get ahold of her, and make sure she was tucked securely by his side before the other men barged in.

“I’m here to win, fellas,” he said picking up the cards the dealer shoved his way. “Especially if the winner gets Bella’s sister.”

Lily neared the table and plunked the mugs down, spilling more of the beer. But the men had turned their gazes on her and didn’t notice anything except the low neckline of her bodice and her exposed cleavage.

“There she is,” one of the men said, grinning like an idiot.

Connell’s fingers went to his knife, and he fought the urge to get up and cut out the ogling eyes of each of the men. Nobody had a right to look at Lily’s flesh—not even him, not until he married her. And the minute he had her safe, the first thing he was going to do was find a preacher and make her his wife.

“Hi there, beautiful,” he said. “Has anyone told you lately you’re pretty enough to stop a man’s breath right in his chest?”

A smile twitched at her lips. She wiped her hands on the satin of her dress as if she relished staining it and destroying the rich material. “Well now, for that kind of compliment, I might just have to give you a little reward.”

She rounded the table toward him, swaying her hips with each step. The message in her eyes said she was playing along, that she understood that their charade was a matter of life and death.

Some of the men hooted, and others called out crude suggestions.

Despite the danger of the situation he couldn’t keep from appreciating her beauty, the way her long, loose curls flounced about her face and on her bare shoulders, the darkness of her hair against the smooth creaminess of her skin, the sparkle in her eyes.

She stopped in front of him.

He scooted back from the table. Should he grab her now and make a run for it? He glanced at the large clock on the wall next to the bar.

He had nine minutes left.

Something flickered in her eyes—questions, urgency, fear. But she kept her face a mask of calmness. “Hmm . . . let’s see, what kind of reward should I give you?” She walked her fingers up his arm to his shoulder.

He forced himself not to look at the door or the bouncers—not yet.

Instead, he fixed his attention on Lily. “How about sitting right here on my lap?” He patted his knees, urging her to draw nearer, to let him shield her.

Her brows inched higher as if she couldn’t believe he’d willingly ask her to do something so scandalous, but with her palm she pushed him back and then plopped herself down on his lap.

The movement brought another chorus of catcalls and whistles from around the room.

The attention was just what they needed to draw the bouncers away from their posts.

He slid his arm around her waist and pulled her closer, catching the lingering lavender scent that was uniquely hers.